Tracts of fertile agricultural land stretched as far as the eyes could see. With the changing seasons, the colours of the harvest varied from shades of green to brown to golden to fluorescent yellow, yielding bounties of rice, maize, potatoes, mustard, red gram, and rapeseed. A mix of some thatched huts and other unplastered brick houses of the poor and a few brightly painted and well-done rural bungalows of the affluent scantily dotted the topography.
While patches of groves amidst the vast farmlands provided shade, deep wells and shallow ponds quenched the thirsts of both man and beasts. Cows, buffalos, goats, ducks, chickens, dogs, foxes, mongooses, snakes, frogs and the occasional nilgai Indian antelope often found themselves on the asphalt Patna-Parsa-Siwan State Highway 73 that cut across the region.
Various shops and small businesses haphazardly sprouted on both sides of the highway, bringing a subtle commercial flavour to the predominantly rural landscape. Situated forty kilometres from the city of Chhapra, headquarter of the Saran district in the state of Bihar, eight-hundred-and-eighty-three residents living in one-hundred-and-fifty houses, covering a geographical area of around thirty-one hectares, formed the Parsa Pojhi village.
“Enough is enough Sarpanch’ji! We need to do something about this cacophonic buffoon. Our eardrums would burst if we heard one more note from the clown’s flute,” cried out Ramprasad, a well-off farmer, addressing the group of five elders that sat under an ancient Banyan tree in the presence of other villagers.
“The word of the Panchayat is final. We have decided that from today, the pesky flute player, Bhuali, is barred from playing his pipe in public,” announced the Sarpanch after a few moments of further discussion. While the gathered villagers sprang to clap and cheer the verdict, the short and shabby enthusiastic flute player in ragged clothes slowly walked away, sulking, and sobbing about the decision. Rejection and scorn were, however, not new to him. He had lived his entire life facing such hostile music.
Sixty-year-old Bhuali lived in a small, thatched hut of wood and bamboo, held together with rope and hay, cemented in cracked sun-dried clay. The withering palm-leaf roof of his humble adobe often leaked. Wild shrubs, a few crooked twigs, and a couple of short bamboo sticks connected to each other with a mix of ropes and cords formed the flimsy periphery of his tiny plot of land of sixty by sixty-four feet. He grew some vegetables on his patch and occasionally laboured in neighbouring fields. Playing the pipe, however, was not a source of earning.
A glowing coir wick inserted into an old cough syrup bottle half-filled with kerosene produced a flickering flame that dimly lit the hut’s inside. Lying alone on a rickety palmwood charpoy at night, the old man smiled as he polished his beloved bamboo pipe. Bhuali had carved out the musical instrument with his own hands when he was just thirteen. He had always wanted to be a musician but could never fulfil the dream. Playing the flute, however, gave him the greatest joy. It was the one thing he had continued doing throughout his life.
Unfortunately, his music was not that great. To tell the truth, it was annoying at times. If not played correctly, the cracks in his old instrument made it sound more like the call of a wild beast rather than usual music. The villagers were not that wrong to be harried by his constant cacophony. They could, however, had tolerated him if they chose, but then he was an old and low-born penniless nobody, and the world does not accept the poor man’s whims and fancies.
Life as an illiterate low-caste rural poor was laced with hardships. Even the land on which he lived was not his. It belonged to the Government, and due to its sloping nature and an odd location at a far corner of the hamlet with no roads for access, filled only with wild shrubs, the villagers did not mind him staying there. It was the one place shrouded in a patch of wilderness with hardly anyone around where the piper could peacefully play his pipe without any interference.
The Terai, a part of the Terai-Duar savanna and grasslands ecoregion, spread from the Yamuna River eastward across the Indian states of Haryana, Uttarakhand, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and West Bengal. Tall grasslands, scrub savannah, sal forests, and clay-rich swamps covered this lowland terrain in the confluence of northern India and southern Nepal, lying south of the outer foothills of the Himalayas, the Sivalik Hills, and the northern Indo-Gangetic Plains.
The Nepal Terai comprising fifty wetlands, spread over thirteen thousand square miles, and covering about twenty-three per cent of Nepal’s landmass, formed an integral part of this ecologically diversified geographical domain. The gradual encroachment of this land by humans for cultivation and expansion of civilisation was a considerable threat to wildlife in the region. It forced many of the wild animals to roam into human settled territories, thereby leading to tussles between man and beasts. Now, there was also a connection between this region and the piper of Pojhi village.
Bhuali was born in the Nepal Terai region. When he was ten years old, he and his parents had migrated on foot from there to this place. He missed the wetlands and felt sad, for he knew that he would never get to see the place again.
At the crack of dawn, the day after the Sarpanch’s decision, Bhuali came out of his hut with his pipe to play a bit of music to cheer himself. He had no other work that day. For the past few weeks, none of the farm owners had been hiring him to show their displeasure toward his pesky flute playing.
Bhuali sat on one of his favourite rocks, closed his eyes and played his pipe with utmost concentration, enjoying the music he created. Cracks in the old instrument made it sound funny. He did not mind and continued playing. As he stopped the music, he heard a short, guttural “bwooah.” Startled by the sudden noise, he opened his eyes, and just two feet from him stood the largest wild beast he had ever seen.
“Bwooah… bwooah…” the animal continued, stomping his legs, nodding his head and waving his horns in displeasure. Was it going to impale him? would it shatter his bones with its kicks? Was this to be the end of the nobody Bhuali, playing his pipe, sitting on his favourite rock at one corner of his field? With his mind suddenly flooded with such terrifying questions, stricken in fear and unable to decide what to do next, Bhuali did the only thing that had always calmed his senses. The old man lifted his pipe to his lips and resumed playing music.
To his amazement, the creature stopped grunting and got back to grazing the short shrub that sprouted wildly in his field. It was his music that had attracted the behemoth. Bhuali slowly rose, still playing his pipe, and to his disbelief, the animal followed, grazing on the shrubs of the field, and occasionally raising its head to keep track of him. After nearly three hours of enjoying the piper’s music, the creature turned away and left the old man to his relief.
Flabbergasted and exhausted by this unexpected encounter with the wild, that day, Bhuali decided not to venture into the village. Having his single meal for the day at four in the evening, the piper retired early and went to sleep.
The night was restless, and the old man turned from side to side on his palmwood charpoy, dreaming of playing his pipe on stage in a hall full of beasts while villagers booed him from the back seats. Drenched in sweat, he woke up startled by the sound of a low scratching on his wobbly tin door. As the first rays of the morning light fell on his eyes through the gaps in his hut’s palm-leaf canopy, he realised that the beast had returned.
On one hand, he felt irritated and scared, and on the other, he felt joy. He could not ignore that the creature seemed to appreciate his music and had come back for more. Overcoming any and every fear, Bhuali went out of his hut with his pipe. To his surprise, the animal was not alone. There were many more of its kind all over his field and beyond. He had never seen such a massive herd in his life. All of them had a certain gleam of expectation in their eyes.
“Bwooah… bwooah…” the alpha grunted, stomped his legs, nodded its head, and waved its horns. The heard shadowed the actions of their leader. It was clear what Bhuali’s wild audience wanted. The old man played his pipe, and the beasts calmed down and continued grazing. Now finding a comfort zone with his newfound and unusual audience, Bhuali moved around his field and beyond, playing his music. Surprisingly the alpha followed with the herd behind.
This wild and bizarre encounter continued for a week, and then one day, the beasts did not come. All this while, Bhuali had not gone into the village. He was too engrossed to play music for the only audience he had ever had in his life, and now they were gone. Feeling depressed, four days later, Bhuali ventured into the village for some human company to cheer himself, and to his surprise, found the entire hamlet in utter turmoil.
“The beasts are ruining all our crops. We have never seen such a large herd visit the village before. They are running amock in our fields, destroying the harvest. Till four days back, they were not that disruptive. Now, suddenly they have become more destructive. We need to do something fast to rid ourselves of these vermins,” said a farmer as he stopped for a few minutes to catch his breath before cycling away carrying a large stick to save his harvest.
Following the commotion, catching bits and pieces of news about the sudden calamity that had engulfed the village, Bhuali landed in one of the fields where many of the villagers had gathered in a circle. Wild beasts ran all over the place. People chased with sticks and stones, beating drums and throwing firecrackers at them.
“You should not have killed the beast Ramprasad. It was the leader of the herd. Without it, all the other animals have gone crazy,” screamed out an elder. “This big one was the ringleader. I thought that it was right to put it down. I did this for all of us. How was I supposed to know that this would make things worse,” cried out Ramprasad to justify his cruel action.
It was a scene of utter ruckus with villagers shouting and accusing each other, chasing after the beasts trampling the crops. Then a shrill and long high-pitched note broke the commotion, and both men and beasts stood in silence.
No one had ever heard the piper blow such a shrill note from his pipe before that day. Before anyone could react or protest, Bhuali bellowed hard on his pipe and continued his music. Everyone was surprised to see the beasts around the piper suddenly becoming calm and harmless. The old man slowly moved about the village playing his flute, and to everyone’s amazement, the animals followed him. It took him two hours to gather the entire herd and bring it close to his home, away from the other fields.
That night Bhuali lay outside his hut. He occasionally got up to play his pipe to keep the herd near him. The old man could not sleep. After thinking deeply for many hours, he had finally made up his mind. At the crack of dawn, Bhuali packed a small sack with a few clothes and little snacks and said goodbye to his beloved home and the tiny patch of land.
Villagers who rose early that day witnessed a sight that perhaps no one had anywhere seen. For the first time in their lives, they did not mind the music the old man played. They saw Bhuali slowly walk away from the village playing his pipe, with the heard following his footsteps. Few of the villagers followed him till they could, and then, they never saw the old man again.
The diurnal Boselaphus tragocamelus, the largest of the Asian antelope better known as the nilgai, literally meaning ‘blue cow’ is found majorly in the Nepal Terai and its neighbouring north Indian states. Thought to be extinct in Bangladesh, recent reports suggest otherwise. Apart from these three countries, it is also found in Texas, where it was introduced in the 1920s. In 2008 the feral population in the US state stood at thirty-seven thousand.
With an estimated population of around 1 million in India, the animal has been considered a pest in several north Indian states. Though the name “nilgai” appeals to the religious sentiments of Hindus, the animal is many a time killed for ravaging crop fields and causing considerable damage.
In Bihar, authorities have classified the nilgai as vermin. Through a proposal implemented in 2016, the state allowed hunting of the animals with laid down procedures. Many have, however, resorted to killing the Bovidae in cruel ways. The Uttar Pradesh Government also has given farmers and firearm license holders the right to cull the creatures. Animal rights activists are not happy with these decisions and constantly protest for more humane solutions. The Rajasthan Government has proposed more non-lethal tranquillisation and sterilisation options.
No one knew where Bhuali went. There were reports from here and there, after the incident of a man playing his flute followed by a massive herd of nilgais crossing villages, agricultural fields, rivers and forests. Some say the old man collapsed and died on the way. Some say he never finished his unknown journey and settled in some village somewhere. Some, however, believe that he found his way back to his land of birth in the Nepal Terai wetlands, where the pied piper of Pojhi spent the rest of his days.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
It’s wonderful to read another great story by you. So thoughtful of you to highlight the simple people, whom we come across in life. Well expressed and engaging.
Thank you for sharing.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you Chitrangada. Such a treat to hear from you after a long time. Always treasure your comments. So glad that you liked the story and my efforts to uphold the lives of the simple people.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Revenge is so sweet sometimes.🙂
LikeLiked by 4 people
Revenge can be mortally gratifying, but it carries with it a sad and hard burden on the soul.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Bhuali is the character, who starts his journey from Nepal Tarai Lands,
he loves music, and dreams to make a career;
he plays pipe, enjoys and experiments.
Though people disliked Bhuali, he successfully completed his journey,
Non-human Nilgais understands his sweet music,
he went back to the Nepali Tarai Lands.
1) Your introduction is flowing and influencing. It matches to the reality.
2) Your characters are unique. Credit goes to your sharp observation.
3)The plot is interesting, maybe inspired by some recents events.
4) Improvements – Bhuali learnt playing sweet music through his pipe. Unfortunately, humans failed to understand it.
5) Educating the readers – Reducing numbers of Nilgais, is of a big concern. It was an important issue in the UP election 2022.
“We humans need to sustain, fauna and flora (also weaker human section) on this planet, to utilise them efficiently and effectively.”
Thank you so much for the short story, Trishikh. I wish more people read, ‘learn’ and be aware of Saving the World🌎.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Dear Lokesh, as always your comment is so thoughtful and indepth. You are right all of us need to consciously taking efforts to save the environment and nature, then only we can leave behind a healthy home for the next generation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for reblogging this story of mine in your website. Always appreciate your efforts to promote my stories. Can’t thank you enough.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Ned Hamson’s Second Line View of the News and commented:
Great tale! Thank you for sharing…
LikeLiked by 4 people
Always appreciate your kind gesture to promot my story in your blog Ned. Thank you so much.
LikeLike
Another wonderful story! What else can we ask for on a sunny Sunday? Thank you!
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much Filipa. So happy that this story added a bit of excitement to a sunny Sunday.
LikeLike
It really did Trishikh! 😊
LikeLiked by 2 people
Another great story, Trishikh. I like the compassion and respect you give to the lives of people who are not wealthy or famous. You tell their stories and honor them.
LikeLiked by 6 people
The honour is equally mine Rebecca. I believe that all of us should do our little bits, with the talents that God has given us to uphold the least amongst us.
Always a pleasure to read your comment. It gives me great encouragement. Have a great day.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Such an amazing story as always!! You are the best!!
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much Arpita. Always look forward to and treasure your constant appreciation.
LikeLike
Really so true thoughts Arpita!😉👍
LikeLiked by 2 people
A wonderful story. Beautifully told. You capture well the wealth inherent in humility, the magical, and the power of the imagination. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 6 people
Dear Suzette, I cannot express how much joy your comment gives me. Thank you for always being so appreciative of my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure. Warmest regards. Cheers.
LikeLiked by 3 people
A pleasure indeed. I look forward to your shares. Happy creating. Cheers.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you Suzette, and I really appreciate.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thoroughly enjoyed this story.. thank you.. ❤️
LikeLiked by 5 people
It is I who must also thank you for you lovely and encouraging comment. It really makes my day when someone appreciates.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for always being so supportive of my writing efforts. Really appreciate you showcasing my story in your blog.
LikeLike
Such a lovely story. Thank you for sharing and your knowledge and creativity that forms them.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you so much Katelon for your very encouraging comment. Always treasure your words of appreciation. So glad that you loved my story and find my knowledge and creativity appealing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another beautiful story, Trishikh! It made me smile.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you Dawn. Your comments always brings me great joy. So glad that it was able to bring a smile.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A poetically beautiful composed fable; following in the ancient tradition of retelling us about how music could connect the human and animal the spirit.
And as usual, we humans, perceiving ourselves as the only worthwhile inhabitants on this earth, can only come up with a ‘human solution’ for solving the plight we are indiscriminately imposing on all other sentient creatures. All that we are good at, is regretting after it is too late!
LikeLiked by 5 people
You are very right good old friend – we are always searching for human solutions, and in the process destroying everything around us, which perhaps is essential to make us human. Must thank you for this thoughtful comment. Always treasure your insightful response.
LikeLike
What an amazing story! I love the part where Bhuali plays so the beasts will follow. I think he went home and they went with him.
LikeLiked by 5 people
I also believe so Patrick. Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting on my story. Words of appreciation gives me great encouragement.
LikeLike
Another wonderful story!
Thanks for sharing
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much Luisa. You comment gives me much joy. Appreciation works miracles for my writing engine.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s well deserved praise! 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh! You are too kind with your appreciation, I humbly accept it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙏🙏🙏
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another brilliant story proving every person is valuable and has contributions to make to improve all sorts of situations.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Yes, you are very right. I too strongly believe that all of us can find purpose. We just need to be hopeful, work deligently, be honest, do good to others, and the purpose will find us.
LikeLiked by 1 person
In the beginning, your story reminded me of Ray’s cult characters Gupi and Bagha. But you have very imaginatively juxtaposed statistics and story.
LikeLiked by 5 people
You honour me greatly, by comparing my work to that of legend Ray. It’s a massive compliment that I accept humbly. So glad that you liked my story. Do visit and read more of them. There are many stories in my blog, and I am sure you would simply love some of them. I try to write and publish one story every weekend.
LikeLike
Ah, yet another beautifully woven tale that gave me chills, Trishikh.
I wrote down one sentence that particularly struck me: “The world does not accept a poor man’s whims and fancies.” I appreciated your describing his playing and instrument as less than perfect. Knowing that added texture to the story.
And you’ve included such a valuable reminder of the inevitable human/wild animal conflicts that occur when we, having moved into the animals’ environs, do not make an effort to address their needs. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 5 people
Dear Annie, I have witnessed the main concept of this story first hand. I live and work very close to the Pojhi village, and the nilgai deer is a realy problem here. It’s a constant sorce of conflict between human and animal. It the state of Uttar Pradesh, in this year’s election, this was a big point of concern.
I am so glad that you like the line “The world does not accept a poor man’s whims and fancies,” it is very dear to my heart too. These small statements that we innovate in our stories, makes them special, as you rightly have identified.
I thank you for this wonderful and thoughtful comment. You constant support always gives me much encouragement.
Thank you dear friend.
LikeLike
Themes of devotion, self-sacrifice, and compassion run throughout your work.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you so much Anna. Your words brings tears of joy in my eyes. I am so happy for this friendship and your constant appreciation for my stories.
LikeLike
No entiendo tu idioma,tienes que ser muy inteligente las fotos son bonitas y dicen algo.
Con cariño amigo,felicidades !!
LikeLiked by 5 people
It doe not matter if you don’t speak my language. I must thank you for liking my stories and taking the sincere effort to comment.
LikeLike
The Pied Piper represented a spiritual being to these animals with his music. It seems that almost anything I read about your country has a spiritually uplifting tone- even withe Untouchables
LikeLiked by 5 people
Dear Usfman, you are very right – spirituality is a big part of the Indian entity, it is present in almost everything. To write about India, whithout thouching spirituality is really difficult.
Thank you for your lovely comment. It always gives me great joy. I treasure your appreciation.
LikeLike
Ha Ha. Even the cows feel spiritual to me there.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, the cow has great significance in the Hindu religion. It is considered a sacred animal. India is a land of mixed people with different beliefs.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Interesting narrative
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you Ananda. So happy that you find the story interesting.
LikeLike
You are welcome
LikeLiked by 3 people
Finally I had time to enjoy your story in peace and quiet. That’s when I like to read them!
It is – again – a wonderful story, showing how sometimes (or often?) the so called underprivileged show more consideration and humanity than the better off people.
For me it is also very interesting to learn more about India and its peoples through your stories, as you give us historical and present day facts. And when reading your descriptions, I feel as if I were there.
Your exquisite skills with language make the stories an allround pleasure.
LikeLiked by 5 people
Dear Stella, reading your comment at the start of the day gives me immense joy. I have been unable to write much, this week and feel guilty about it, however, your comment gives me much encouragement to continue writing.
You are right when you say that the poor and underprivileged are most of the times more compassionate. I think God resides in them, that’s why they are more human.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That rings very true!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I am honored that such a gifted writer liked something I wrote. I am pretty sure it was mostly the message you liked, which blesses me the most. Your story reveals good messages and a gifted writer.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Dear CJ, it is also my great pleasure and honour to like your posts and messages as well. Do visit my blog again, whenever you wish to read a short story. I will also keep on visiting and reading your writings as well.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, friend.
LikeLiked by 3 people
You are most welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Umanità disumanità, a volte il confine è labile. Leggo con molto interesse i tuoi articoli Trishikh, il problema è che non sempre il traduttore collabora! Sono sincera.
Ti auguro una buona serata! 🙏🙏🙏
LikeLiked by 4 people
Dear Valy, I know its very difficult to read my stories with a translator. The translations will not always be accurate and will not always hold the original essence. I am so thankful to you for taking the interest to still read my stories in spite of the translation problem. I will always be thankful to you for this. A great day to you friend.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Le leggo comunque volentieri, caro Trishikh, e nonostante il traduttore, credo di riuscire lo stesso a coglierne l’essenza. Sono davvero molto belle e profonde! A great day for you!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I am so happy for that. Thank you good friend for reading and enjoying my stories.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Grazie a te, caro amici, che scrivi storie così belle ed emozionanti!
LikeLiked by 4 people
It’s my pleasure Valy to be able to share these stories with the world. I want to write many more of these stories in my life. It would be my contribution to the society.
LikeLiked by 2 people
The vivid description, the storyline, the characters… Mehn! Trishikh, you write good!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Dear Mariana, reading your comment as the first one at the start of the day makes it so special. Nothing like starting the day with words of appreciation. So glad that you like my descriptions, storyline, and characterisation. Do visit again again, I am sure that you would love reading many more of my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Really so true said dear Mariana!🌹🤗✌
LikeLiked by 2 people
Dear Yaksh, so glad that you agree with Mariana.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always a pleasure dear friend🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊🙏
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you for this beautiful story, Trishikh. An enjoyable read. Parsa in Bihar is known to me. I could relate. The character of Bhuali has been thoughtfully created to address the issue of nilgais. I don’t know why people disliked his flutes. It’s voice , that too from a master, is melodious. I go to a temple, where a man comes and plays his flute for one hour and people wait for him to come.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Dear KK, I was waiting for your comment, and knew that you would read and give your feedback once my story came up on your radar. I live and work in an Eye Hospital, just 2 KMS from Parsa. So glad that you know the place. It gives me great joy. I think the villagers not only disliked Bhuali for his music, I think they also disliked him for being poor and a landless outcaste. His flute was broken, and he could not make a new one. He was even sentimentally attached to the old instrument. So the broken flute sounded funny and annoying at times, however, it created the perfect note liked by the Nilgais. Am releasing my next story today, do visit, read, and comment when you get the time. Always a pleasure to interact with you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
You mean, Akhand Jyoti Eye Hospital. That’s a big hospital in that area, I think. Coming to story, I’m glad you have given details for dislike. Even in this modern age, people think of caste and poverty. It’s an irony. I don’t know why sometimes I don’t get notifications for your posts. I won’t miss your next story, as I know now the date of its release. It’s always a pleasure to read your stories. Thank you Trishikh for your response. Much appreciated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes KK, I work as Senior Manager Communication at Akhand Jyoti Eye Hospital at Mastichak. My wife also works here as a. English Teacher for the girls we train as Optometrists. It gives me great joy to know that you know about Akhand Jyoti.
I always post my stories usually on a Sunday, or a Saturday, or at times on a Friday, and on no other days. I will always post on the weekend. Some weeks I fail to write due to work and other pressure.
Always treasure our interactions.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So glad to know about your work and wife, as also the schedule of your posts. Thank you. All the best for your future endeavours!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks KK, very best to you and your family as well. Stay safe, stay healthy, stay helpful, and stay creative. Those who know to encourage others are the best of God’s creation amongst us.
LikeLiked by 2 people
You’re welcome, always, my friend!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you KK.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yaa! Absolutely agree with you dear Trishikh! Amazing thoughts you have dear friend💞🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
I treasure your appreciation dear friend.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always a pleasure dear friend🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
The pleasure is mutual.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊✌
LikeLiked by 2 people
My pleasure✨😌
LikeLiked by 2 people
It is my pleasure too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are so kind hearted person Dear friend🤗❤😊
LikeLiked by 2 people
Reblogged this on Título del sitio.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog. Really appreciate the kind gesture.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Loved this story🥰
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much. I am so happy that you liked this little tale of mine.
LikeLike
Great story, you are a talented writer.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much Michael. Nothing gives me greater joy, than someone appreciating one of my stories.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Write and Create (from Creative Writing Course).
LikeLiked by 3 people
Dear Craig, thank you so much for re-blogging this story of mine. Much appreciate your kind gesture. Now many more people would be able to read my story.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Hortereichon Show.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much for reblogging this story of mine in your blog.
LikeLike
ıt’s wonderful 👍 great story.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much Alev. I am much elated to know that you liked this story. Nothing gives me more joy, than a line of appreciation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
my words are true. 👍
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much.
LikeLiked by 2 people
http://01815.home.blog/2022/04/08/buddhism/
LikeLiked by 3 people
Hi there, I have approved your comment, which is a link to your blog, however, I usually allow comments that are related to my story.
LikeLike
I love your work. It is evident that you put a lot of yourself in each article that you write. I appreciate your likes of my posts. You are a wonderful internet friend.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It really my great pleasure and big honour my friend.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are most welcome.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It is fascinating to read unique stories that I have never heard of before.. About Nilgai I remember reading in books but never saw one in real life… Keep writing..
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you for the lovely comment Chiru. Am so glad that I can share little bits and pieces of knowledge with you through my stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What an enchanting tale, The vibration of Music touches all hearts.. .. Loved your descriptive narrative very visual.. 🙂
Sad to learn the reality of these animals as they are sometimes cruelly culled…
Also thank you for your visit to my blog. I appreciate that you followed and your likes.. 🙂
Many thanks 🙏
LikeLiked by 2 people
Dear Sue, thank you so much for liking my story. Yes you are right, music does touches the heart. It even has the power to suddenly stop a fight or argument. It maybe reaches the fetus in the mother’s womb and sometimes can perhaps even bring by the dead. The power of music is limitless.
Animal cruelty is a sad reality. I think children growing up with pets or in nature are lesser cruel to animals.
It’s my pleasure to visit, follow and like your blog. Will visit again.
Take care friend and have a great day.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Amazing and so wonderful post dear friend. Your thoughts are really so amazing👍😍🌹💞
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much Yaksh. I really appreciate you reading, liking and commenting on my story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always a pleasure for me dear Sir. Your posts are literally so awesome👍😊👏
LikeLiked by 2 people
The pleasure is equally mine Yaksh.
LikeLiked by 1 person
💕🤗😊✌🙏👍
LikeLiked by 2 people
😊💝🌹🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
My pleasure dear friend🤗🌹😊💞
LikeLiked by 2 people
The pleasure is equally mine.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear friend Trishikh, a great day for you!
LikeLiked by 2 people
A great day to you too Valy.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you very much Trishikh
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are most welcome Valy.
LikeLike
Thank you very much Trishikh, you are most welcome too.
A great day for you!
LikeLiked by 2 people